


The Greatest Thing in the World

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: M/M, Princess Bride, it follows the spirit of the story more than the story word for word, so it will veer off in its own direction at times, the nanders princess bride au nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4577640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, this is a kissing fic. (Or, the self-indulgent Princess Bride AU I've been dying to write.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Thing in the World

**Author's Note:**

> "Sonny, true love is the greatest thing in the world..."- Miracle Max, The Princess Bride

“Father?” Nathaniel said from atop his horse. He’d been taking his daily ride through the lands just outside of Denerim when the sight of his father standing off to the side of the path stopped him in his tracks. While he might be willing to accept that sight after some alcohol and a very persuasive argument, there was no way he’d accept that his father would merely stand by the road with a qunari and a Dalish elf. Before he had a chance to properly question his father, the elf cast a spell, and he slipped unconscious.

When he awoke, he was slumped on the deck of a boat with his arms bound in front of him. The shores were easily visible, no more than ten feet away. So they were on a river, then.

Nathaniel cleared his throat and said, “There are easier ways to get me to visit, father. Ways that won’t incense my fiance and threaten to start a civil war.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about your fiance,” Arl Howe said, sneering. “And as for war, I imagine Orlais will have to worry about that more than any of the Arlings.”

The elf stopped cleaning her nails and looked up. “I don’t see how kidnapping a noble from Ferelden will start a war with Orlais, unless shem politics are more messed up than I thought.”

Arl Howe snapped, “Did I ask you to speak? Once the King discovers that his fiance has been kidnapped by the Orlesians, he’ll have no choice but to declare war. The man who discovers this treachery will be richly rewarded.”

The elf rolled her eyes and resumed cleaning her nails. “Toadying stopped working for you?”

“I don’t think it ever started working,” the qunari said. He had a truly massive sword--at least as tall as Nathaniel--strapped to his back, and he was missing an eye.

“Maybe that’s because toads are more charming.”

“So are toadstools. And toads’ stools.”

“That’s enough from you,” Arl Howe said, his face livid. He looked at the elf. “I saved you from being hanged by the families of the merchants you accosted.” He then turned to the qunari. “And where would you be without me? Abandoned by your people, unwanted by anyone here. You should be paying me for this work.”

Nathaniel wished he'd come even remotely prepared for a battle. While he carried his bow and arrows, they'd been removed from his person and he doubted they'd be useful against a mage and a qunari at the same time. There was also the fact that he had no way to escape his bindings with his father watching him.

As they rode in silence, Nathaniel reflected on his life before his engagement to King Osbert. After his father had all but disowned him, he’d used some of the money he’d saved to buy a small farm, where he’d lived, if not comfortably, then at least somewhat happily. This contentment was due in no small part to the town healer, an apostate who lived next door and had spent almost a month tending to the wounds Nathaniel accrued as he settled into life on a farm. As the months wore on, Nathaniel found himself calling the healer over for increasingly trivial injuries.

“Healer,” he’d said, still incapable of choking out his neighbour’s name. At first it had been born of wariness of growing too close to a mage, but soon he feared that if he said “Anders”, his budding feelings for the mage would be revealed in those two syllables. “Healer, I’ve cut my hand. Again.”

Anders had taken Nathaniel’s hands and, apparently unaware of the way Nathaniel’s breath hitched at the physical contact, searched for the cut. It was small, little more than half an inch across, and barely deep enough to count as a real injury, much less one that required a healer’s attention. Anders had healed the cut in less than a second, but had continued to hold Nathaniel’s hands. He’d run his thumbs over the tops of Nathaniel’s hands and smiled. “All better?”

Nathaniel had nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Without considering the ramifications of the action, he’d leaned forward and brushed his lips against Anders’. Anders had smiled into the kiss and pulled him closer, and that was when Nathaniel had been struck with the realisation that he was in love.

It had all gone so well, until the day he’d gone to Anders’ home and discovered that it had been ransacked and Anders had been taken. After months of unsuccessfully searching for some sign of the mage, he’d had no choice but to accept the fact that he would never see Anders again.

“He’s probably just a trader on his way to Amaranthine,” Arl Howe was saying when Nathaniel tuned back into the conversation. “And he’s drunk in the middle of the day. And lost.”

“He’s sailing awfully quickly for a drunkard,” the qunari said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, look. He’s catching up to us.”

“Pull over,” Arl Howe said, gesturing for the elf to take control of the ship. “We’ll lose him in the forest.”

As the ship ground to a halt on the shore, Arl Howe roughly maneuvered Nathaniel into a standing position and pushed him down the walkway and into the woods. Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder; a weathered skiff was sailing down the stream at a surprisingly fast pace, considering it veered from one side of the river to the other as it sailed. Before Nathaniel had a chance to see if the ship would pass theirs, he was prodded until he began walking into the forest.

“I think he’s following us,” the elf said.

Arl Howe glanced behind them and swore. “Since you two are so obsessed with him, why don’t you stop him? Catch up when he’s dead.”

Velanna rolled her eyes, but took her staff off her back and stayed behind while Arl Howe and Nathaniel walked forward. The qunari stood beside her, sword still strapped to his back.

“You won’t get away with this,” Nathaniel said, hating himself for sounding like a storybook character. “The King expected me back twenty minutes ago. He’ll have sent out a search party.”

“Do you think he really cares about you enough to send out a search party?” Arl Howe sneered. “You’re worth more to the kingdom dead than alive.”

“I beg to differ,” a voice from behind Nathaniel said. “In fact, since he’s worth so little to you, why don’t you just hand him over?”

Nathaniel turned and saw a man in a black coat and mask. The coat had feathered pauldrons, a detail that made Nathaniel’s heart ache like a broken bone as he remembered Anders once more. Anders would have loved that coat.

“And why would I do that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw his father unsheath his daggers.

“Because I’m charming?” the stranger said, though he took a staff off of his back. “Or maybe because I’ve already informed the King of your treachery, and releasing Nathaniel to me is the only thing that could mitigate your punishment.”

“You’re bluffing,” Arl Howe said, though Nathaniel saw his jaw tense just a fraction more.

“I was bluffing when I told the First Enchanter that I knew where he kept his brandy. This? This is the truth,” the stranger said, twirling his staff between his palms.

There was the distant sound of hoofbeats. The stranger added, “That would be the King’s men now. You might want to make a choice soon.”

Arl Howe looked from Nathaniel to the stranger and back again. Before his father had so much as twitched, Nathaniel twisted away from him. It wasn’t enough to keep the knife from entering him, but the action served to protect his vital organs. Someone screamed. At first he’d thought it was himself, but his mouth had remained closed. He collapsed, gasping as blood seeped from his shoulder. There was the smell of ozone and burning flesh, then something fell to the ground behind him.

The man in black knelt in front of Nathaniel, and Nathaniel must have lost more blood than he’d thought, because he almost looked like Anders when he took off his mask.

“Shit,” the man said as his hands glowed blue-green. “Shit. You’ll be fine, Nate. You’re going to be fine.”

Nate blinked. While it wasn’t the best he’d felt, he was no longer bleeding, and the dizziness and pain had subsided.

“You can’t be,” he whispered, looking up at the man.

Anders smiled, and it was more potent than any healing spell. “All better?” 


End file.
